


Ghost

by Time_is_fading



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Gen, Ghosts, Implied Hunk/Shay, M/M, POV Second Person, implied klance, kinda experimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Time_is_fading/pseuds/Time_is_fading
Summary: It’s a strange thing, not being alive. At first, you believe you are, I think therefore I am, right? But whatever you are, it isn’t alive. You have no body to move, no brain to think, yet the world passes through you and you can feel it. You can feel everything all at once, waves of sensation crashing at you, and then absolutely nothing as it drags away. It’s dizzying and exhausting, to receive so much only to be stripped from it straight away, and you are so confused you just wish it would stop.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Langst Halloween Exchange 2020





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> For the langstron2020 gift exchange!!! This is for @langsty-langst-lance on tumblr!!! Happy Halloween!!! Stay spooky ;)

It’s a strange thing, not being alive. At first, you believe you are, I think therefore I am, right? But whatever you are, it isn’t alive. You have no body to move, no brain to think, yet the world passes through you and you can feel it. You can feel everything all at once, waves of sensation crashing at you, and then absolutely nothing as it drags away. It’s dizzying and exhausting, to receive so much only to be stripped from it straight away, and you are so confused you just wish it would stop.

You get used to it, eventually. The push and pull continue, but at least is not so overwhelming anymore. Time starts to run again (how do you even know what time is?) as reality settles around you. You’re in a hall —not quite standing since you don’t have legs, but close enough. It's long, winding and so twisted, the floor turns into the ceiling, and the ceiling into the floor. It seems to have no end. As you "walk" on, however, it begins to unfold. Every step you take makes the hall straighter and shorter, to the point you can see a blinding light at the end of it all. You try to run with your nonexistent legs, but something is forcing you to keep the same pace. Finally, the walls stop twisting and solidify into a common construction. They are white and empty, barely standing out against the pale cream-colored floor. 

The light you tried so hard to reach is nowhere to be seen.

Something about the dullness of it all is unnerving. The unnatural hallway that had been so odd at first now seems comforting in comparison to this setting. A heavy atmosphere fills the air, pressing down on your incorporeal form. Your presence here is a mistake, something unwelcome that causes the fabric of reality to bend into something it should not. You have no lungs, but it still feels like all the breath is being squeezed out of them, so you gasp. Something goes inside of you, and you're not quite sure if it was oxygen or anything else, but for now, it grounds you in this plane. 

The only thing left to do is keep walking. There's a door on the left, another one on the right, and as it occurs to you that it's possible to turn around, another door behind. One, two, three steps ahead, and a small living room greets you. It's almost as empty as the hall, only a blue worn-out couch, a small coffee table, and an old TV. Whoever lives here is either a minimalist or just doesn't care. Random trinkets and décor are strewn around to make the room feel a bit more lived in (ha!), and you spot a picture frame showcasing a group of friends, all smiles, and joy. The pull, so distant now that you've come to this place, comes back almost painfully and leaves you emptier than you were before.

Suddenly, a doorknob begins to rattle. You hear a bit of coursing before the front door opens to a young man vicariously holding some grocery bags. He stops for a second, looking around in confusion before entering the apartment. Of course, he doesn't see you. You're not alive. You're not even sure what you are or why you're here, but one thing you're absolutely certain of is that you can see him. So you do. He's tall, a bit thin but still manages to pass off as athletic, with light brown skin, brown hair, and blue eyes. He could be considered handsome, but that's not what stands out the most for you. He looks familiar, like a memory long forgotten that you know existed but you can't really recall.

You're staring intensely, trying (and failing) to remember where you know him from when he looks up. He's frowning, looking around the place in confusion once more before returning to his previous task. Maybe he sensed your gaze, but if he can't see you there's not much you can do about it except quit staring.

You don't stop. You watch him put away his groceries, you watch him sit on the couch and turn on the TV, you even watch him sleep. What else are you supposed to do? It's not like you can interact with the rest of the world, so all that's left to do is observe. He scratches his hair ever so often, running his fingers through his hair afterward in an attempt to hide it. He brings his fingers close to his mouth to bite on the nails before quickly pulling them back. He can't stay sit in the same position for very long. He snores. All the common quirks you can possibly think of are present in him, boring as they might be. And still, you can't stop watching.

Time goes by. Days and nights sometimes last mere seconds, and hours sometimes feel like days. Throughout all this, you don't stop watching. His name is Lance and he's a college student in his early twenties with a halftime job at the local coffee shop. His life is as dreary and stressful as you would expect, with classes to keep up with and a job that barely pays the bills. The only reason he can even afford the apartment is that he has a roomie, his best friend Hunk.

Hunk is like a teddy bear most of the time, all fluff and hugs with Lance. When he's there, of course. He tends to stay over his girlfriend's place many nights in a row. This is why you meet him until a couple of days after your arrival. He doesn't sense you the way Lance does, he walks right by without even a glance in your general direction. Whenever he's around, Lance becomes this vibrant person, joking around and smiling all the time. They seem to get along very well. They can talk for hours about any given subject, always kind and friendly with each other. Perhaps that's why, when Hunk leaves, Lance seems to deflate. 

There's someone else who pops by every now and then. The other person on his picture frame Hunk's holding, right beside Lance. It's a small girl who always shows up unannounced, especially when Lance isn't home. She serves herself to whatever's on the fridge and settles on the couch. Lance always acts like he's annoyed to see her invading his space, asking if she doesn't have a place of her own or to go bother someone else. They both know it's just an act, but she plays along. They watch movies or play videogames well into the night. He always offers Hunk's room since he's never there when she comes by, but she prefers to take the couch. One day, a fear of his slips out. He tells her she should move in when Hunk decides to stay permanently with Shay. She gives him a funny look, telling him Hunk would never leave him. Lance looks away and tries to laugh it off, but he's already said too much. She doesn't really answer, but that night she finally stays in Hunk's room. Lance counts that as a yes.

Then there's Keith, another young man that only shows up late at night. He's on the picture too, arms crossed and a bit farther from everyone else. He often looks disheveled, sometimes even bruised. Lance always asks him what he's doing here, if he's drunk, or if he got into a fight. He's never drunk but refuses to answer any other question. When Lance begins to press further, Keith shuts him up with kisses. This genuinely seems to upset Lance, as he pushes away to say he always does the same, showing up without a word and expecting him to be alright with that. At least Keith has the decency to look ashamed, but he kisses Lance until he stops trying to argue. They give in to their passion and end up curled in Lance's bed, where he falls asleep on Keith's chest. When he wakes up, though, Keith's never there.

Those mornings are the worst. It pains him that someone would leave right after sharing themselves so intimately. To add salt to the wound, Shiro shows up looking for Keith. Shiro is the other man's older brother, and he only shows up in Lance's apartment to look for him. Lance invites him in out of sheer courtesy but frowns whenever Shiro accepts. The older man seems to be the only one of the group who knows about their affair. Keith insists on keeping it on the low so as to not disturb the group's dynamic, but Lance knows that's just an excuse. Their friends would be happy for them, so why bother hiding? Well, Shiro doesn't look happy about the two of them, but that has more to do with Keith's attitude than them being a couple. Lance doesn't understand why Shiro insists on coming to his place if he knows fully well that Keith never stays. The older man is kind, at least, asking how he's doing and showing some concern about his life outside of the failed romantic aspect. Perhaps that's why he keeps inviting him in. His visits dissipate the guilt for a while, but after he's gone, it all comes crashing back.

Lance is full of contradictions. When someone else is around, he's exuberant and outspoken, and, with some notable exceptions, he's mostly happy. But when there's no one else there, he retracts into his mind and doesn't come out. He goes from being all bright and cheery, to dull and quiet. He either walks with a bounce in his step or drags himself to do his daily activities, a heaviness permeating every step he takes. It's jarring to see someone live on absolutes, never quite finding balance. The only thing that remains constant through it all is his smile, but even that is contradictory. It's so bright sometimes that it feels forced, and you're not quite sure whether he actually means it, or he's just faking it for the sake of smiling.

You don't really help his situation. Since he's the only one that unconsciously knows you're there, he constantly looks around trying to catch a glimpse of you. It only gets worse when you start manifesting a bit more. You feel stronger every day, more corporeal, more real. You don't mean to scare him, but sometimes you stand a bit too close and he shivers, or you bump into furniture and make things fall. If you get too close to a lamp, the light flickers, and if you stand next to the TV, static begins to appear. He notices these things, of course, and it terrifies him. Hunk and Pidge dismiss it as drafts of wind or accumulated stress. He doesn't even mention it to Keith and Shiro. 

You have a body now. It's invisible like your existence, but you know it's there. You can't pick up objects, but the lighter ones move slightly at your touch. You're curious and tug on the bedsheets when Lance goes to sleep. He doesn't appreciate it, but you keep doing it anyway. When your hand brushes his skin one night and he recoils, you know you've crossed the line and finally stop. It makes you question once more why you're here, what your purpose is in all this. You know this man's life better than himself, but have no idea what to do with this information. You've become too real to just be an observer, but you're not real enough to do anything else than mess with his sanity. You try to back off, but it's impossible. Lance is more scared than ever, convinced that you're haunting him, barely managing to live his life the way he always has.

Hunk finally moves out the first week of October, but Pidge doesn't move in. She already has a roommate that she can't leave, but she offers him to move in with them instead. He declines, claiming he doesn't want to intrude. Now he has to find a new place, but he's worried there won't be anything he can afford. He brings up the issue to Keith one night, suggesting that they could live together. He says it half-heartedly, but deep inside it means a lot to him. Keith only hums noncommittedly and tells him to go to sleep. He stops showing up at Lance's door.

October comes to an end, and Hunk and Shay are throwing a Halloween party. Lance is getting ready, deciding to have one last ounce of fun before being evicted from the apartment. All his things are packed up, but he hasn't found anywhere of his own. Maybe he'll take Pidge up on her offer. Whatever comes next, it will have to wait until after tonight.

Lance puts on his costume, a white sheet with holes. It's funny that after all your interactions, this is how he decides to confront you. He probably thinks that because of the date, your presence is stronger in this realm. He doesn't realize you've been holding back for him, but if he wants you to manifest, then you will. This may be the reason you're here, after all.

You begin to tug on his "costume", lightly at first. It freaks him out, but he soon starts to curse you out. It pisses you off. Maybe you scared him a little in the past, but you've never meant him any harm, and this kind of treatment is insulting. So you shove him, not really expecting him to move more than a couple of inches. But what you thought was only a light shove turned out to be an inhumanly strong push. He fell down, cracking his neck on the coffee table. Blood began to pour out into the floor, but it was already too late. He was gone. 

All this time watching his life, only for you to be the cause of his death. You feel sick, disgusted at what you've done. You look down at your hands and find that you can actually see them, you csn see your whole body. You're wearing a white blanket over yourself, a silly attempt at a ghost costume. Suddenly, everything makes sense. Memories start flooding your mind, of a short-lived life when you always felt alone, until you weren't. A figure haunted your last months, always observing as if mocking your misery until it put you out of it.

It’s a strange thing, not being alive. You have no body to move, no brain to think, yet the world passes through you and you can feel it. You can feel everything all at once, waves of sensation crashing at you, and then absolutely nothing as it drags away. You remember nothing. It's better this way.

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